Forgiveness
by darwick
Summary: How does one ease the pain of a broken soul? How does one forgive? AU Dark!Harry HPSS


-1Forgiveness

By Darwick

Disclaimer: No profit is being made off this fan fiction. All rights are reserved for JK Rowling and etc.

Summary: Betrayed, Harry Potter lives in darkness.

How does one ease the pain of a broken soul? How does one forgive?

I sat in the apartment, alone. The room had been set up in some fashion. None of it my doing. If it had been up to me, everything would still be in boxes. Then again that's why they had done it and not me. I sat alone, and in the dark. I rarely bothered with the lights when this pall descended. Depression my therapist called it. She tried to prescribe potions for it. But I never took them. It was all I had left. If I didn't feel this I would feel nothing at all. And what are you when you feel nothing? Nothing. And despite everything I don't want to disappear. So this feeble attempt at living is what I endure.

….

He came again. He brought the potions I never drink. I know he makes them himself. I appreciate the effort but…

He pours me a drink, laced with antidepressants and something else. He wraps my fingers around the glass and brings it to my lips. I always drink for him. I feel better, but I don't feel like myself. And I briefly wish I could be both.

His hand lingers a moment too long and he pulls away.

"I wish you wouldn't." I say. The warmth left on my hand fades far to quickly.

"Take the potions this time." He says. He watches me for a long while, willing me to be something else, or perhaps be a little more sane. "Please."

He leaves again. A white envelope lays on the table. I leave it for tomorrow. No work today. I can never work when I feel…

….

I step into the shower. The water runs red and I feel a morbid sense of accomplishment. Indeed I am an accomplished killer. Murderer. Assassin. I wish I wasn't. Still I am pleased.

I am not a vampire, but I think I am more so than the real creatures. I live off the lives of others. Taking theirs to sustain mine.

I curse the creature I have become and I cherish it. For I love it none the less. I know right from wrong, I know it is wrong, but it feels so good. I feel good. Alive. I worship the red rivulets, the pink beneath my nails, the sore muscles, the pleasure… I love them all, like lovers, they each give me something I can cherish and love. They each bring me a little closer to life. I love them all, my victims.

….

The next day is the worst. I regret. I am plagued with guilt. I beat my fists on the floor and scream to no one. I carve my arms with those precious knives I have taken so many lives with. I curse and cry. I wish I could dig a little deeper and end it all. No one comes and tells me it's alright, or listens to my pain.

I sit in my apartment, alone.

….

He comes again. I am lying in the bathroom. I've been sick. Sick with guilt… He carries me to the bedroom outside and sits me on the bed and brushes my hair. He sneers and my weakness and the depths he's been reduced to, nursemaid. I laugh at him and he hits me. I love the warmth he always leaves, even if it's pain.

I kiss him. It's sudden, and he's stunned. It's moments before he pulls away. I smile for the first time in years. "Thank you. I needed that." I lie down and fall asleep instantly. He's gone when I wake.

…

I find myself waiting for him. Wondering when those potions will run out. Or when I have a new job. There are always more jobs, more lives, in a war. This war, I don't much care for. It's not really my war. I don't want to kill people. But I am good at it, and He is a good leader and uses all his tools.

I'd resent it, if I didn't deserve it so much. I deserve to hurt, like they hurt. I deserve so much pain for the deeds I have done. And the deeds that have been committed to me.

Because bad things happened and if I don't share this pain, I will explode. And the pain never seems to end.

….

He hasn't returned for days, weeks.

I wonder if it's because of me.

….

A white envelope was on my table this morning. And no one delivered it. Where is Severus?

…

I mailed all those potions to the school, along with a note. 'I wish you wouldn't.' It says.

…

I received a note from him.

'Wouldn't what?' It asks.

I reply.

'I wish you wouldn't leave me.'

But I can't stop there. 'I wish you wouldn't pull away. I wish you wouldn't leave the envelopes, or bring the potions, or leave me alone….

I feel embarrassed, because I mailed it.

….

There was no reply. I received no more potions, only envelopes. There are so many envelopes.

….

I was called. I hadn't seen so many people all together in over a year. I was skittish. My 'family' was there, and they were full of questions. I brushed them off. "I'm fine. Yes, I missed you too. Dinner? I am awfully busy…" I can't get away from them. They are suffocating. I am terrified they will find out what I have been doing for our Lord and how bad everything really is.

Even here in the Dark, Harry Potter's glow. Serial killers aren't welcome here.

Severus isn't there. I ask about him. Their reactions are startled. "He was the spy." They say, and explain with a story. He was a double agent, Dumbledore's spy. His loyalty lay with the old fool. It was shocking and we can only hope he will meet his due fate. I nod and agree.

He'd been discovered and had somehow escaped our Lord's wrath.

The meeting ends and I beg off offers. I return to the empty cold apartment, alone. My ears are ringing from the noise of so many people in one place. I kind of missed it.

I missed Severus more.

….

There is a note on the table. And a man sitting beside it. Severus has his head down, but he's not asleep. He looks up tired and jaded.

I am stunned, and warmed.

"Why do you do it? How do you kill people so easily? He asks just as tired.

"It's easy to make people hurt when you hurt. " I tell him. I walk into the kitchen and make lunch. Though neither of us will eat it.

"And what hurts that much." He sneers bitterly.

"Can you think of nothing?" I ask. Then shake my head. " I wasn't always like this. I was good once, and I loved, and I laughed. Bad things just happen, and this makes them feel better."

"But you said…don't you regret it."

"Everyday. Every second. I regret everything… except the one thing that made me this way. And that's why I can stop yet…." I want to tell him, but it hurts, it hurts too much. "If I could forgive… I wouldn't be here."

"I wish you would."

He leaves, again. And I wish he wouldn't.

….

I packed all the things that are mine. One suitcase with clothes. I leave the rest, the books, the furniture, the knives.

I leave with only a note on the table in a white envelope.

…

I walk into the school uninvited, and probably unwanted. But there none the less. There are so many kids. And they all watch me. I have asked for directions, but the girl doesn't seem to think I can find my way. So she follows me, giving off lefts and rights. I twitch under her gaze. I am an assassin. I can find my way through a maze in pitch darkness, by scent and touch I could find…

I knock on his door. He is busy, and shouts through the door. It swings open and his mouth freezes in mid rant.

"Hello."

"Hello." He replies softly.

"I forgive you." I tell him. He's silent for a long while watching me.

"It wasn't…."

I stop him, holding my finger up to his lips. "I can forgive, for you."

He smiles, it's gone in an instant. The girl who had directed me cooed from the hall and runs away when he glares at her. I smile at him. "For you." I whisper.


End file.
